Slow to wake when nightmares replace dreams

I wake slowly. Knowing that the extra twenty minutes I snooze my alarm to won’t matter. But I still do it. I pet the cat by my side. She rolls over my hand and goes back to sleep. I long to join her. But that extra 20 minutes was a dream. A hope which fades with every passing second. I have to get up.

It’s not a particularly hard job. Nor a harsh work environment. I’m just tired. So fucking tired of too short weekends and work weeks which drag away hours from those weekends.

It’s what fuels discontent. What makes every day a little worse. The accumulation of hours without end. Without purpose. Without hope of change.

As the day wears on, I am reminded of good things. Of love. Of hope. Of kissable lips. Of the dream of the brighter world. The sadness lingers like hot breathe against soft skin.

Quench my thirst on love. On desire. On dreams of far places, where I am becomes we. And what was becomes joy.

Rough woods yields form

So easy to lose in silence
Hollow silence where not even the echo of hearts beating faintly thrums
Distant words waiting for unsaid truths
Always hesitant
What point truth which digs dagger deep
Which burns a familiar cold
Almost like home
Like tired lines which snap shape
Which make you feel like control is there
Woefully unprepared for love
Without presence
Light bleeds blue
Too slow to see
Bleed violet
Who gets to see the space between
Where pain is just what is
And hope is just words written on leaves
And tossed out
Answers looking for questions
Homes looking for love

Hold me on the dark

Every choice I make has love at its core. I take actions from desire. From the desire to see a better future. Not one devoid of relationships, not one alone, not one where I sit in some glorified tower surrounded by a parade of pale delights. Always with an eye towards love.

I think that is why I have such a heavily scarred heart. Because while love and passion was wearing off, hitting that three month endorphin deadline, my love was building based on knowledge of the person. Each fact and thought and action building to a fuller picture, reinforcing my choice to love.

Because that’s what love is, a choice. A choice we make anew each day. Not some heedless rush of need to this conclusion of sex. Not some taste test to see if the person will last a bit longer in that endorfun gold rush.

But I get it, we want that instant connection. And the story I tell about Morgan is all about that. But it’s not a full picture. It wasn’t the meeting, it was the continuing choice to keep meeting. To not accept a one night stand and agreeing together to look and stay for more.

And that is love too. The choices we make together for each other. Not for ourselves. And not in the vacuum of our own hubris but in solemn, giddy, and laughing discussion of what we want and how we’ll get there.

It’s we. Rather than I. Not saying there isn’t room for I, but if it’s not we, then it’s not real. If it’s not we then it’s desire and obsession masked as love. A heady combination which never quite lives up to the firework you are expecting.

And still, there are fireworks. Love is what we should all choose to be. What we can choose to be. With whomever we want, provided they feel the same.

Love, it’s why we are here.

This is a broken world
But I am not broken

And the way forward is always love.

Six days to shed the dark

There is a song whose lyrics are ” l want you so badly my bones start to ache”. I’ve felt that destructive desire. That reckless, heedless rush of need which only cares for itself. It’s a fire that burns hot. Consuming all of the self in an effort to ignite the world. In a vain attempt to start a fire in the heart of another.

But I’ve been misremembering the lyris as “I love you so much my bones ache” because that is what the banked fire of love feels like when a smile or a word feeds oxygen to the flame and it ignites.

It’s like the singer was so close to the real. So close but so completely wrong. Love is a well tended flame. It doesn’t consume. It can’t. Instead it’s a nuclear reaction hitting the threshold needed for a sustained and steady force. Is it fire that can hurt? Fire that can burn? Does it hurt sometimes looking for a way to be expressed? Certainly. It’s the reaction at the heart of a star.

And like a star, it can last forever. I’ve found this to be a true thing. At least for me, and I am aware that I am…different. When I yield my control to love. Allow love past my defenses…past unbelief that I am worthy of love…past the pain of lost love…past dread of some future where the face of love wears disgust instead. When I do that, I love forever.

Like a runaway thermonuclear reaction.
Like a star.

I have burned many with that heat. There seems to be a limit to what most can stand. And yet somehow, love finds a way.

Maybe that matched fire is the only way. I’ve been looking for Earth’s when I needed a Sun.

Nightmares are also dreams-Part 41

Bruised, bloodied, and satiated, we settled into our soft but firm bed. For the first time, I’d allowed myself to be goaded by my wife into losing control. To experience the almost fugue state of the total abandonment of control and just did whatever I desired without construct, form, or limits.

I can remember it all but it’s at a remove. Except for brief instances where I felt myself tipping into monstrosity. Knife poised to cut off her nipple as I rode her. The fear in her eyes flooding me with desire and making me painfully hard. I know I stopped after pressing the dull side of the blade in, as if to beginning sawing. I can see the relief flood her body and I remember slapping her tit so hard it left a red hand shaped print against her bone white skin.

I remember the feel of holding onto the dangling ceiling spreader bar while Seth impaled me on his throbbing cock. Filling me up with the war of pain and pleasure. Legs hugging him to push deeper into me. Kissing his mouth like I was searching for a way to feel more. Biting his lip and tasting blood and that flash of regret that I had sent the others away. Wanting more inside me. Seeing Sara approach wearing a small strapon. Her reading that burning desire to lose myself. The thrusting pulse of a slick and thrumming dildo, joining Seth. The feeling of hot wet splashing inside me. The vibration too much for him to endure. The brief moment of respite before some monstrous cock, easily triple what I’d just taken started thrusting in. Turning, I see one of the men I’d dismissed, Jake, and the triumphant smirk of Sara. Jake opened me up. His cock slamming into me while he held me up from behind.
My last coherent memory is Seth sucking my cock slowly into his mouth. Like my dick was water and he was savoring every touch of it.

I remember whipping Sara with her favorite single tail. Each lash showing an angry red line across her ghostly skin. Pulling her off the Saint Andrews cross and giving her to Seth and Jake. I watched her body racked in pain be whipsawed into pleasure at the hands of those men. Her eyes staring into me, mouth open. Deep into subspace. They took her. She laying sideways on the padded bar. Front and back, thrusting her between them. I recall pushing my cock into her open mouth. The feel of her mouth sealing around me and the slow sucking as she pulled one last hard cum from my aching over used cock. Tensing each time she spasmed in orgasm. One hand holding her head in place and the other cupping her bruised breast. Pushing and kneading on the bruises.

I know we took a shower but can’t remember it. I pull Sara’s battered body closer to me. These recollections making me hard. But I’m too tired to do anything. Nevertheless, I push into the pleasant familiar warm of her pussy. Just leaving myself inside of her. With Tara pressing herself against me. Tits pushing into my back. Awkwardly, I reach back and cup her mons in my hand. She murmurs in a half asleep haze, “Thank you, Master.”

Some tension in me breaks at her words, and I drop deep into sleep. The most content person on the face of the Earth.

A moment quiet enough to kiss

Small sounds escape lips
Tongue dips and dashes
Dance behind closed eyes
That first devouring of you
Our uncertain touch
Becoming more real
As seconds pass without air
But with the mana of your flesh
A sacred union of love made physical
Joined in joy
In desire
In safety
In calm water truths
Not of perfection
But of seeking to know
In caress and sigh
In halted steps and hesitant words
The loudness of your breath against me
The fast beat of our hearts
And the surety
Of being seen
And found

Split screen reality

I see you in my minds eye
That knowing smile
The deep glimmer of pain and yearning
I see you
Knowing every inch of your heart
At least the surface
Longing to plunge deeper
To claim every millimeter
And in my exposure
Be claimed
As all that we are is laid bare
Hidden eyes waiting with a ready flinch
For the rejection of a misplaced word
Walls break the sound barrier as they clash into place
We stand
Opposite
Hands pressed deeply
Waiting for the wall to drop
Held up by the pressure of our longing
Whispered words shouted
I love you
Echoing out
The attempt to show
Not tell
All these hours away from you
All I have is my words
Hoping each tear shaped drop is enough
Hoping each action proves my constancy
Hoping in my bent back
Smiling lonely
Looking for the path that brings
Me to
Us